


keep me close, love me most

by dapperyklutz



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Ships It, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperyklutz/pseuds/dapperyklutz
Summary: “... and yet, here we are.”“Hmm.”It was the beginning of what Jaskier hoped would be a wonderful friendship.or5 occasions Geralt ignores or doesn't acknowledge Jaskier as a friend and the 1 occasion he finally did. (*cough* thank you, Ciri *cough*)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 32
Kudos: 418





	keep me close, love me most

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a lot of wonderful fics of what could've happened after Jaskier left Geralt at the end of "Rare Species". This is my version, which was only supposed to be 500 words, but it evolved into a 2.1k fic.
> 
> Initial title on my document was "5+1: Geralt being an idiot". Official title taken from the lyrics of the song "Someone to Stay" by Vancouver Sleep Clinic.

_“... and yet, here we are.”_

_“Hmm.”_

It was the beginning of what Jaskier hoped would be a wonderful friendship.

~

Jaskier lies immobile on the four-poster bed, dried blood on his shirt and neck, making the sight a bit macabre. He’s alive and healing, and it’s all that matters.

“A friend?” Yennefer asks, voice lilting in curiosity.

Geralt opens and closes his mouth, unable to give voice to an innocent question.

~

The tavern at the small town they’ve stopped in for the night could use a bit of cleaning, but despite the dreary atmosphere it makes up for the lively and, surprisingly, friendly crowd.

Jaskier’s been playing for hours, and regardless of the slight cramping of his fingers, he gives in to his audience’s pleas and sings _‘Toss A Coin’_ for the second time that night. Afterwards, when he’s finished collecting the coin he’s earned that night, he purchases two tankards of ale and brings it to the secluded corner where Geralt has been seated the entire time.

“Such a lovely crowd for a small town!” Jaskier states jovially as he sets down the tankard in front of the Witcher. He takes a long drink of the warm ale.

“Hmm.”

“Come now, Geralt. Even you have to admit that this town’s people are the friendliest we’ve encountered in... well, ever, frankly speaking.”

“Don’t you ever shut up, bard?” Geralt grumbles, even as he lifts the tankard to his lips and takes a long sip.

 _You’re welcome,_ Jaskier thinks with an inward eye roll.

Out loud, the bard replies, “As if I have a choice, my dear friend. I speak enough for the both of us. You’re not exactly the chatty type, eh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance, golden eyes focused somewhere over Jaskier’s left shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

~

“Stay here with Roach. I’ll be right back.”

“What? Like hell I am! I’m coming with you.”

Geralt growls. Jaskier scowls.

“No, you’re not. Stay the fuck here, Jaskier.”

“No,” Jaskier draws out the syllable as if he’s talking to a child. “I’m coming with you, damn it. I have that dagger you gave me and I know a bit of self-defense... _ish_. And I _promise_ to stay far away from the action.”

“What good is a dagger and weak punch against a kikimore?” Geralt snarls. “You’d be dead before you can lift a finger.”

Jaskier scoffs. “Where in ‘I promise to stay far away’ did you not get, you grumpy wolf? What if something happens to you? You’re my friend. You need me to be there to help-”

_“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier, I don’t need you!”_

Stunned at the outburst, Jaskier gapes openly at Geralt with a hurt expression while Geralt pulls out the Cat potion. He drinks it in one go and then tosses the empty bottle back in the saddle bag.

Before Geralt disappears into the woods, he turns his head over his shoulder and regards Jaskier with a hard look. The bard snaps his mouth shut, a mixture of arousal and hurt and worry and _fascination_ when he meets the Witcher’s black eyes.

“I’ll be back. Stay the fuck here and look after Roach.”

When enough time has passed and he’s certain that Geralt won’t hear him, Jaskier mutters under his breath, “Probably needs a good fucking, that one.”

Roach snorts.

~

“Calm down.”

“I’m sorry but _who_ , of the two of us, got stabbed with a rusty knife? That’s right, _me_! I get to decide if I want to calm down or not!”

“If you had listened to me the first time and shut your mouth, you wouldn’t have been stabbed in the first place.”

“It wasn’t my fault that man was being incredibly rude! Damn whoreson deserved a beating.”

“You sure did.”

“ _Excuse me_?! I was defending your honour, Mr. Geralt of fucking Rivia! Because you’re my friend! And this is all the thanks I get? Sarcastic remarks as I bleed to death?”

“Don’t be dramatic. It hit your thigh, and it looks like it didn’t nick an artery. You’ll live.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring! Just, you know, one tiny thing - how the fuck am I supposed to walk now? You have that contract, after all. Unless you’re willing to let me ride on Roach.”

Geralt glares at the hopeful expression on Jaskier’s face.

“No.”

“But I can’t go with you in this state!”

“I know. You’re staying here.”

Jaskier splutters. “S-stay? _Here_?”

Geralt nods, looking a tad uncomfortable. “I can’t delay the job by staying here and babysitting you.”

Jaskier’s face turns red in anger and... something he doesn’t want to name right now because -

“ _Babysit_?! I don’t need you to babysit me, Geralt! I’m a grown man.”

Something like relief passes over Geralt’s face before his expression becomes blank once again, much to Jaskier’s disappointment.

“Good. This room has been paid for the next few nights. You can meet me at the next town when you’re healed enough.”

Jaskier’s heart twinges as he stares unhappily at his friend. “You’re really going to leave me behind? Your very best friend in the whole world?”

Geralt exhales loudly as he turns to leave the room.

“Rest. I’ll see you at the next town.”

Jaskier doesn’t see him until a month later.

~

“Are you here alone?”

Jaskier’s in the middle of performing one of his greatest hits at a royal’s betrothal when he hears the simpering voice of one of the noblewomen present. One quick glance to the side confirms Jaskier’s suspicions that, yes, Priscilla is currently flirting (rather poorly, in his opinion) with Geralt, who’s dressed in finer robes compared to the last outfit Jaskier had dressed him in. And to say that his Witcher looks bored would be an understatement.

Jaskier continues to perform, but keeps one ear on the conversation happening. Not his fault it’s within hearing distance.

He hears Geralt hum disinterestedly.

Priscilla asks coyly, “Or are you here with someone else?”

Geralt grunts. “The bard.”

“Oh. You’re with Jaskier?” Yep, that sure sounds like disappointment.

_Hah! Take that, you wench. You weren’t even good in the-_

“Yes.”

Priscilla’s voice drips with fake sincerity when she simpers, “You’re quite the supportive friend.”

At this, Geralt snorts in amusement. “Not really.”

Jaskier almost missed a chord, but thankfully he was able to salvage it by improvising at the last second. His chest is heavy and constricts painfully after that, and Jaskier could only taste bile at the back of his throat for the rest of the night.

~

_“Why is it when I’m in a pile of shit these days, it’s you shoveling it?!”_

_“That’s not fair...”_

_“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”_

_“See you around, Geralt.”_

It was the beginning of the end of what existed between them.

Twenty-two years later, and Jaskier thinks there’s nothing left in his heart to give. Not that he’s not willing. He’s more than happy to give and give and keep on fucking _giving_. But he’s... he’s exhausted. He no longer knows why he’s held on this long.

That’s a fucking lie. He knows why.

Love is an addictive pill, they say. But when it’s unrequited (or unwanted, unneeded) it can be labeled as unhealthy. Lethal. _Destructive._

His garroter, jury, and judge.

In all aspects, Jaskier lets Geralt go. But some twisted part of him, in his heart, he holds on.

~

Ciri eyes the bard singing his last tune for the night with curious eyes. Beside her, Geralt quietly sips his drink. When she glances up at the Witcher, Ciri nearly rolls her eyes at the intense, _longing_ expression in Geralt’s golden eyes.

She hears the applause of the crowd at the tavern, and for a split second Ciri thinks she saw Jaskier look their way. Jaskier, who’s dressed in clothes that has seen better days. Jaskier, whose hair reaches above his shoulders, wavy and perhaps a little greasy.

Jaskier, the bard who left Geralt at the mountain top two years ago; the bard whom Geralt can’t stop talking about and _pining over_ in the past year and a half she’s been traveling with him; the bard who wrote Ciri a ballad when she was a child (she’s still a child, but what innocence she may have possessed then is all but gone in the face of trauma she’s lived through), and one she’s dearly missed hearing.

Ciri’s eating the lukewarm stew when she hears more than sees Jaskier stop in front of their table. Carefully, slowly, she lifts her head up and meets dull blue eyes staring at them. There’s a pang in Ciri’s heart when she notes the lack of spark in the bard’s eyes.

Before Jaskier can open his mouth to speak, Ciri beats him to it.

“Fiona,” she introduces primly with a small upwards twitch of her lips.

Jaskier blinks down at her before he nods and bestows her a wink. “Lovely to meet your acquaintance, Fiona. I’m-”

“Jaskier, I know,” Ciri interrupts him with a grin, dinner forgotten for the moment. “I also know you went as Dandelion when I was still in... well.”

The bard blinks at her again, this time in surprise, before his eyes quickly swivel to Geralt’s. Geralt, who, upon a quick glance, is still staring intensely at Jaskier, jaw clenched and clutching the handle of the tankard with a tight grip.

Ciri observes, fascinated and curious, as Jaskier clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath as if to centre himself before meeting Geralt’s stare with a raised eyebrow.

“Geralt,” he greets stiffly.

To Ciri’s astonishment, Geralt flinches. But it’s such a subtle thing, nobody would’ve seen it unless you know the Witcher as well as she and Jaskier and Yennefer.

Geralt’s response is low, stilted, but laden with guilt. “Jaskier.”

This is the most entertaining thing Ciri’s witnessed, and she holds her breath as she waits for Jaskier to answer. Slowly, she spoons a few vegetables into her mouth as her eyes pass between the two.

_Ugh, are men always this obtuse? Auntie Yennefer was right._

When neither speak after seconds pass, Ciri lets out an exasperated sigh and addresses the struggling bard.

“You’re all he could talk about in the past year and a half I’ve been with him,” Ciri starts. She ignores Geralt, whose head swivels to her like whiplash, his eyes wide.

“Ciri-”

She continues to address Jaskier who’s now gaping open-mouthed at her. “Geralt regrets what he said to you at the mountain. He also regrets not telling you that he does consider you a friend. He was just scared because he thought that once he acknowledges the vital role you play in his life, then you’ll decide to leave. I told him it was stupid of him to think that, and Auntie Yennefer agreed with me. Told him that breaking the djinn’s curse would be all for nought if he doesn’t seek you and apologise.”

“Ciri.”

“What?” Ciri almost snaps at Geralt, who looks a mixture of mortified and annoyed and _fond_. “You’ve had your eyes on Jaskier the moment we entered this place. Plus, you’ve been looking _longingly_ at him the whole time, Geralt. It was either wait for another year for you to make a move, or I help you along.”

Geralt closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. “Ciri.”

Ciri bites her lower lip, unsure now if she’s done the right thing. She casts a look at Jaskier, and she’s mildly surprised to see the bard fighting a grin, eyes bright with emotion and... tears?

“Sorry,” Ciri mumbles under her breath. Then she speaks at a normal level. “The staring was getting quite pathetic, though. And I felt sorry for you.”

“As do I,” Jaskier interjects gently.

Geralt whips his head to look up at the bard, and Ciri’s heart grows when she sees the sweet, exasperated look in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says again, hope in his voice. At this point, Ciri is inclined to bang her head against the dirty table top. _Men._

“This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.”

“I know.”

“I’m still pissed at you. Still very, very pissed.”

“I know, Jaskier.”

Despite the stern tone, Jaskier’s still looking at Geralt with that same soft expression.

“You have a lot of groveling to do, Witcher.”

“I know, little lark,” Geralt says with a small smile.

Jaskier looks like he’s about to melt at the equally soft expression on Geralt’s face.

“You’re an idiot,” Jaskier mumbles.

Geralt’s smile widens. “And you’re my best friend.”

When Jaskier grins, even Ciri can tell it’s the brightest and happiest she’s ever seen the bard.

On another note, Ciri almost whoops in celebration because _yes, Yennefer owes her a hundred coins now._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [jaskierstark](https://jaskierstark.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you wanna chat.


End file.
